


Sports Fan

by floatingaway4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Drabble, Henry Needs A Hug, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4
Summary: Henry is dealing with the logistics of attending his brother's wedding. David wants to be supportive. Shaan is just the messenger.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 24
Kudos: 134





	Sports Fan

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to Framed. Do you have to read that first? 
> 
> A list of reasons you should:  
> 1) It’s short  
> 2) It wouldn’t hurt  
> 3) This will probably make more sense!
> 
> Actually, I think you can also read Framed after you read this and it will still work....
> 
> I seem to be working through some life stress (and distracting myself from finishing a longer story) by writing drabbles. I hope that's not bothering anyone.

“I don’t care.” 

“Sir, I’m just the messenger--”

“And I said I don’t care. So you can take that message back to her,” Henry gestures flippantly toward the door. 

Shaan rolls his eyes while Henry’s back is turned. “Your opinion is noted, sir. But the Queen--”

“Why the hell does she even care whether I bring a date?” Henry is curled up in the chair next to the fireplace, arms folded, glaring at Shaan. 

Shaan sighs heavily. “I... suppose...for the sake of appearances, sir.” 

Henry pats his lap and David jumps up, eager for the attention. “It’s my brother’s wedding. Who’s even going to be looking at me?” 

Shaan’s response is hesitant. “Actually, _because_ it’s your brother’s wedding, _everyone_ is going to be looking at you, sir.” 

Henry fucking knows that. People will expect him to get married next. He runs a hand through his hair, his entire expression pinched and shadowed. 

“The papers are already--” Shaan starts. 

“The papers? Or the Daily Mail? That’s not a paper. It’s a sleazy piece of rubbish masquerading as news.”

“Regardless…” Shaan tries again. 

“It’s not like there won’t be women there. I'll dance with a few of them. Voila, everyone’s happy.” Henry throws up an arm, as though magically solving the problem he knows he is. “Except me,” he mutters, “but that’s never been a concern for anyone here.” 

Shaan wants to argue but sees little point in it. His own opinion isn't the one Henry cares about. “There will be several unaccompanied women there, sir,” Shaan tells him, as he scrolls through the guest list on his tablet. 

Henry snatches the tablet from Shaan’s hand. He knows he's being rude, but he’s too upset to care. He scrolls down and sees the name “Claremont-Diaz” twice under the ‘RSVP confirmed’ column. 

Shit. 

“June Claremont-Diaz isn’t bringing a date. She’s coming with her brother. I’ll dance with her. Problem solved.”

Shaan takes the tablet back. He knows the Queen probably won’t be happy with just one or two dances instead of an actual date, but he literally isn’t in a position to argue. “Yes, sir,” he says, with an air of defeat. 

Henry gets up, dislodging David, who whimpers his objections. He flops across his bed and picks up the book he left there. “You can go,” he says, waving his hand. He doesn’t usually do the whole dismissive royal act with Shaan, but he’s very much not in the mood right now. 

When Shaan leaves, Henry puts the book down and digs in the drawer of his nightstand. He pulls out the Teen Vogue he has buried beneath a pile of football and rugby magazines. Henry doesn’t actually care about either, but he realized years ago that it’s one way he can safely look at other men without anyone being the wiser. Hurrah for sports. 

He props his head on his hand and stares at the man on the cover for the millionth time. David jumps on the bed and curls up at his side. Henry runs a finger down the glossy image, tracing over the side of Alex’s face, up his cheekbone. He feels silly, like a teenage girl with a crush on a movie star, but this is literally all he’s allowed to have so he lets himself have it. “How can someone be so beautiful and also be such a complete arse?” he asks the dog, who has no answer for him. 

Henry has never bothered to do more than skim the actual article, except to ascertain that Alex didn’t admit to being in a serious relationship. That’s probably true, Henry thinks. He must have all kinds of women throwing themselves at him. Why settle down?

The magazine automatically flips open to the page Henry has turned to more times than he can count. The one with the full length shot of Alex in a designer suit, caught in a laugh and running his hand through his hair. His face is tilted down but his eyes are looking up toward the camera. Henry has been to enough photo shoots to know that that’s exactly what the photographer told Alex to do. But Alex also looks very natural in front of a camera, while Henry has never looked this comfortable in one of his obligatory press shoots. “He could model, don’t you think, David?” David thumps his tail once. “Do you think his eyelashes are photoshopped? They have to be, right?” Henry laughs to himself. “Because that’s just fucking unfair.” 

Henry thinks about doing what he usually does when he’s looked at Alex’s picture for a little too long, but he can’t bring himself to do it with an audience, even if it’s just his dog. He eventually drifts off into a nap, dreaming of long lashes, warm skin, and a wicked smile. Dreaming of all the other things he’ll never be allowed to have. 

Two months later, having the real-life Alex spending the night in his home (under duress, but still) will be mind blowing and uncomfortable and secretly lovely, all at the same time. Even if Alex still hates him. 

Six months later, he’ll have learned that Alex is warm and funny and courageous and real. And that he doesn’t hate Henry after all. 

Two years later, Henry will actually have all the impossible things he once dreamt of. He will know the smooth heat of Alex’s mouth, the texture of his curls, the way his laugh feels when it bubbles up from beneath Henry’s own body. He’ll know what Alex smells like, which is one thing he could never get from a picture. He’ll know what those gorgeous eyes look like when they're focused on him, and not on a camera lens. 

And those fucking eyelashes. Definitely not photoshopped. 

Two years later, Alex will tease him about his obsession with this magazine, which Henry will remind him is both hypocritical and hilarious. And then they’ll make love and revel in the fact that they can do it any time they want now, without having to hide or pretend. 

Three years later, Henry will be faced with the prospect of another royal wedding. But this time, he won’t have to worry about bringing a date or finding a girl to dance with for the sake of appearances. 

He just has to worry about not messing up his vows on live television.


End file.
